


Lesson Learned

by ariel2me



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, Stannis FicArt Week, stannisficartweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/pseuds/ariel2me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Stannis FicArt Week on Tumblr. Prompt: Stannis decides that Devan should take lessons with Shireen and Edric. He informs Davos, Devan and Shireen separately of his decision. Axell Florent opposes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lesson Learned

**Prompt for Stannis FicArt Week: Stannis decides that Devan should take lessons with Shireen and Edric. He informs Davos, Devan and Shireen separately of his decision. Axell Florent opposes it.**

“Your Grace?”

The sight of young Maester Pylos busy at work with scrolls and parchments was proving to be a painful reminder of the old maester Stannis had lost, the one who was almost a father to him.

The one Stannis _did_ think of as a father. And loved like a father.

Even if he had never actually told Cressen this, when the old maester was still living.

_What is there to tell? Cressen knew, without me having to say anything. He always knew. The things I wanted him to know. The things I never wanted him to know. The things unspoken between us. Cressen knew them all._

Doubt crept up and made a home in his mind. _Did he? Did Cressen truly know? Then why did the old man –_

No, he would not fall prey to this yet again. Cressen made his choice. That was all there is to it. 

“How is my daughter doing with her lessons?” Stannis asked brusquely as he turned away from Pylos to gaze out the window, staring at the waves incessantly battering the rocks on the shore of Dragonstone.

“Princess Shireen and her cousin Edric are both doing very well, Your Grace,” Maester Pylos replied. “Edric Storm is a very bright boy. He –“

“I asked about my daughter, Pylos. Not Robert’s bastard,” Stannis snapped, turning around and glowering at the maester. Pylos’ constant advocacy for the bastard boy incensed Stannis. Cressen would have known better.

Or would he?

_The boy is innocent. The sin is your brother Robert’s, not Edric’s._ Cressen’s voice was a constant companion in his head, unwelcomed, but strangely comforting at the same time.

“Your Grace?” Young Maester Pylos looked abashed, but still undeterred. “I was about to say that Edric has been a wonderful learning companion for Princess Shireen. And a delightful playmate as well. I have never seen Princess Shireen smiling and laughing as much as she has been doing since Edric’s arrival at Dragonstone.”

The man had the courage of his conviction, Stannis had to admit. Still, Pylos was young; young and green and lacking the wisdom of old Cressen.

_Why did you choose death? Why did you choose your hatred for the red woman over your duty to me?_

Cressen’s voice in Stannis’ head was silent, for once. Reply was not forthcoming.

_Why did you abandon me?_

_Why not? Everyone else does._

“Is there anything in particular you wish for me to teach Princess Shireen and Edric, Your Grace?” Pylos was asking.

“I want Devan to take his lessons with my daughter.”

“Devan Seaworth your squire, Your Grace?”

Stannis gritted his teeth, impatient with Pylos’ question. “Who else? You are to teach the boy everything you are teaching my daughter.”

Pylos nodded. “Very well, Your Grace.”

Cressen would have asked why, Stannis thought. Pylos did not display any curiosity at all.

Davos Seaworth his Hand _did_ ask why. “Your Grace, I am most grateful, but Devan is a squire. To take his lessons with a princess and a king’s son would be –“

Stannis glared at Davos. “A king’s bastard, you mean?”

“Your nephew, sire. Your nephew Edric,” Davos said, barely flinching. It seemed he was still determined to repeat the boy’s name to Stannis as often as possible, as if the sound of Edric’s name would somehow make Stannis grow to love the bastard boy.

_A futile effort, Davos. Edric. Edric Storm. The bastard boy conceived on my wedding bed. I know his name as well as I know my own._

In fact, Stannis had whispered the boy’s name night after night for a long time after his birth, right after he finished cursing Robert.

“I know his name!” Stannis exploded. “We’re speaking of your son, Davos. Not Robert’s bastard boy. Your eldest son and heir, who will be Lord of the Rainwood after yourself.”

A look of pain crossed Davos’ face at the mention of his eldest son. Dale. Dale Seaworth had been Davos’ eldest son, until his death on the Blackwater. Three other brothers stood between Dale and Devan; Allard, Matthos and Maric, all dead too now.

He and Davos had never spoken of the death of Davos’ sons. Stannis suspected it was too late for them to speak of it now. Or for him to convey his condolences.

_They died in your service. Fighting you war._ Davos had never said those words to Stannis.Instead, he had blamed Melisandre for his sons’ death.

“Devan would be a much better lord than I am,” Davos said. “He was born to this world. I was not.”

“The long list of lordly fools in the realm disproves that,” Stannis scoffed. “But your Devan is a good boy. Loyal. Diligent. Hardworking. He should learn more than just reading and writing, and take lessons in history, bookkeeping and other things to prepare him to be a good lord.” Stannis paused. “As good a lord as you are, Davos,” he continued.

Davos looked uncomfortable, looking down and shifting his feet from side to side. “Devan would be very grateful for your trust in him, sire,” Davos finally said. “And delighted, I’m sure.”

Axell Florent the castellan of Dragonstone was not delighted at all. Just as he was less than pleased when Stannis made Davos Hand of the King. Ser Axell had designs on that position himself, Stannis was well-aware of that.

“Surely it is not proper and appropriate for your daughter, a _princess_ , to take her lessons with a _lowly_ squire, Your Grace.”

Stannis raised an eyebrow. “A lowly squire? I was once a squire myself. And so were you, Ser Axell. Most of the knights and lords in the kingdom once served as squires. There is nothing lowly about it at all. It is one of the best training grounds for making good lords and knights, my lord father used to say.”

“That is true, Your Grace. But would you have Princess Shireen take her lessons with _all_ your squires? Or just Devan Seaworth?” Axell Florent pressed on.

Stannis stared at his wife’s uncle. “So it’s not the fact that Devan is a squire that is the true cause of your objection. It is because he is the son of Lord Davos.”

Axell Florent shook his head. “I did not say that, sire.”

Stannis scoffed. “You might not have said it, but it was certainly implied. I am no fool, ser!”

“Tongues will be wagging, sire, if you treat your squires differently. If Devan Seaworth is given special treatment, for whatever reason.” The look on Axell Florent’s face was not only defiant, but also self-satisfied and smug. “Just like tongues were wagging when you made a former smuggler imprisoned for trying to kill the Lady Melisandre your Hand of the King. A traitor does not deserve such accolades.”

“It was the Lady Melisandre who suggested that Lord Davos be released from prison, and forgiven for his sins,” Stannis pointed out.

The look of astonishment on Axell Florent’s face was hard to miss. He recovered from the shock quickly, however. “I’m sure the good and wise lady has a good reason for that suggestion. Perhaps she saw it in her flames, saw it in her flames that the onion knight would have a further part to play in this war, that he is not done serving you. But I am certain Lady Melisandre would not be in favor of the man who tried to kill _her_ , the priestess of our one and only true god R’hllor, becoming your Hand of the King.”

“Really? You are certain of that? How? Did you see it in the flames, ser? Tell me, what did the flames show you? That _you_ would be Hand of the King, and not Lord Davos?” Stannis snickered. “Not likely, Ser Axell. And if tongues were wagging about Lord Davos’ appointment as Hand of the King, I am certain you had something to do with it.”

Axell Florent protested vehemently, his face turning red. “Your Grace! I would never –“

Stannis cut his protest short. “Let me guess. You are merely conveying to me what _other_ people will be saying. I suggest you be more mindful of your _own_ tongue, ser, and spend less time worrying about the tongues of others. As to the question of fairness, my other squires are not heirs to a lordship. Devan Seaworth will be Lord of the Rainwood someday.”

“Very well, Your Grace,” Axell Florent said, taking his leave. But the look of contempt on his face conveyed his real thoughts to Stannis, loudly and clearly. 

“An upjumped smuggler who bought his knighthood with a few barrels of measly onions and salt fish, raised to a lordship created overnight by a desperate king.” Stannis had heard the tongues wagging too.

_I will scour the realm clean of law-breakers and wrong-doers, and make a thousand new lords if I have to_ , Stannis vowed, clenching his jaw tightly. Devan glanced at him warily, before quickly turning back to his task, setting out Stannis’ evening meal of boiled egg and bread on the table. Stannis studied the boy carefully. Devan did not seem to notice; he was too busy with his task.

When Davos was given his land and knighthood fifteen years ago, he had brought his wife and sons to Storm’s End to be presented to Stannis. Davos had looked on proudly as his wife and four sons greeted Stannis. Dale, the eldest boy, had been the first to speak. “Thank you for being so generous to my father and to our family, m’lord.”

Davos whispered to his son, “My lord, Dale. Not m’lord. Remember what we talked about? You are to say _my lord_ and _my lady_ now, not m’lord and m’lady.”

Dale looked embarrassed, his face turning red. He turned to his mother for reassurance. She gave him a comforting smile.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stannis said to the boy. “Titles are not worth the scrolls they are written on. They are not the measure of a man. Do you understand?”

Dale had looked at Stannis solemnly. “Yes, my lord,” he replied.

Stannis closed his eyes. Devan looked so much like Dale did when Stannis first met him. The same earnest plain face, the same solemn look staring out from his forthright brown eyes, even the same unruly brown hair that no amount of combing could seem to manage.

“The table is ready, Your Grace.” Devan’s voice interrupted Stannis’ recollection of the past.

Stannis nodded, sat down and started his meal without a word.

“Lemon water, Your Grace?”

“No. Water.”

Devan poured the water into a clear goblet and handed the goblet to Stannis. Stannis added a pinch of salt to the water, and emptied the goblet in one gulp.

It was a meal time just like any other meal time, and Devan attended to Stannis like he had done countless times before. But the boy was restless tonight, Stannis could sense it. Devan’s eyes strayed every which way and would not look at Stannis directly as he usually would, and his fingers were busily tapping away at his sides.

“Do you have something to ask me?” Stannis asked, after he finished the last morsel of bread on his plate. He started on the boiled egg.

The blood drained from Devan’s face, and the tapping motion ceased immediately. “Your Grace?” The boy sounded genuinely baffled.

“I’d rather you ask your question directly rather than scurrying around like a terrified mouse all night,” Stannis replied impatiently. Truth be told, Devan had been a refreshing change from his other squires, past and present. The boy was wary of him, true, as any good squire should be towards his lord, but he did not waste his time being afraid of Stannis to the detriment of his duties.

Tonight, however, was the exception. “Speak up, Devan. You are given a mouth for speaking, not for biting your lips.”

Devan opened his mouth immediately, but no sound came out at first. Stannis gazed at the boy thoughtfully.

Devan finally gathered his courage, and the words came rushing out quickly. “Is it true that I will be taking my lessons with Princess Shireen and Edric Storm, Your Grace?”

Stannis swallowed the last bite of his boiled egg. “Did your father tell you that?”

Devan shook his head. “No, my lord father told me that Your Grace has a command for me, but that you will let me know about it yourself.”

“Then how did you find out?”

Devan looked down, shifting his feet slowly from side to side. The gesture reminded Stannis of Davos. Before Stannis realized it, the corners of his mouth had involuntarily turned upwards. Almost, but not quite a smile.

“Well? Who told you if not your father?” Stannis persisted, his expression stern again.

Devan looked up and met Stannis’ gaze. “The men were speaking of it all over the castle, Your Grace.”

“The men? Which men? What are their names?”

Devan looked extremely uncomfortable. Stannis sighed. He could guess where these men had gotten their information. He put Devan out of his misery. “Never mind. I’m sure I know who these men are. Yes, you are to take your lessons with my daughter Shireen. I have arranged it with Maester Pylos.”

The look of astonishment on Devan’s face was palpable. The boy was speechless for a long while.

“Well?”

“Your Grace?”

“Aren’t you pleased?”

Devan nodded quickly. “Very pleased, Your Grace. Thank you. I am very grateful. I will work hard to be a useful learning companion for Princess Shireen.”

Stannis raised an eyebrow. “You do not look very pleased.”

Devan’s eyes were looking down at his feet again. “I am, Your Grace. Only … I was wondering …” The words trailed off into silence. Stannis waited for the boy to continue. “I was wondering about the other royal squires,” Devan finally said. “Maester Pylos is already teaching us to read and write.”

_Why do you want me to take my lessons with Princess Shireen, but not the other squires?_ Stannis understood the unspoken question.

“My other squires are not heir to the Lord of the Rainwood. You will have much greater responsibilities and duties on your shoulders one day, and you must be prepared for them. As my daughter must be prepared for the duties and responsibilities of a ruling queen one day.”

There would be no son, Stannis was certain of that now. It was time to prepare Shireen for her inheritance.

“Do you understand, Devan?”

 Devan waited a beat before replying. “Yes, Your Grace. I understand.”

“Your father has served me loyally for many years. One day you will serve my daughter with the same kind of loyalty.”

Devan nodded eagerly. “I will, Your Grace. I promise.”

“True loyalty is not about blindly following orders. It’s about the courage to tell the hard truths,” Stannis continued. “Your father understands that. And you will too, soon.”

“I am ready to learn, Your Grace.”

“Good. You can clear the table now.”

As Devan was leaving the room with the empty plate and goblet, he suddenly turned around, looking sheepish. “Princess Shireen and Edric, they … they do not mind a squire joining them for their lessons?”

“It’s hardly Edric Storm’s place to object, is it? I am the king, not him,” Stannis snapped. Edric. Edric. Edric. It seemed that everyone was intent on reminding him of that bastard boy, even his squire.

Devan looked horrified. “Forgive me Your Grace. I did not mean –“

“I’m sure my daughter will be pleased,” Stannis continued in a less angry tone. “Maester Pylos tells me she is fond of your company.”

Devan managed a smile and hastily left the room.

In truth, Stannis had no idea at all how his daughter would react, to this news, or any other news. Most of the things he thought he knew about Shireen were told to him by others – Selyse, Pylos, Cressen.

This time, he would ask his daughter himself. Face to face, not through others, not through words written in a letter.

Shireen came to his room with Patchface in tow. “Patches, wait for me outside,” Stannis heard her whisper to the fool at the door. Patchface shook his head vigorously a few times, the bell on his head making a loud, clanking noise with each motion. Shireen sneaked a glance into the room, looking at her father, and said adamantly, more adamantly than Stannis thought possible from his shy daughter, “Wait here, Patches.” She walked into the room and closed the door softly, ignoring Patchface’s low moan.

At least she had not brought that bastard boy with her. Stannis had seen them playing in Aegon’s Garden, Shireen and Edric, running, even shouting with glee. Part of him wanted to yank the boy away from his daughter, to keep him as far away from Shireen as possible.

But as Maester Pylos said, the boy made her smile, and laugh. Stannis had seen it himself. Had heard the sound of his daughter’s laughter ringing through Dragonstone.

“Father,” Shireen called out, her hands tightly grasping her dress. “Maester Pylos said you wish to see me.”

Stannis turned around to face his daughter. He was surprised to find that the top of her head was almost at the height of his chest. When had she grown so tall? They stared at each other for a long while, neither saying anything. They were too far apart to have a conversation, Stannis realized, so he moved closer towards her. Shireen must have had the same notion, for she too started walking towards him, and the two of them almost collided when they met in the middle.

Worried that she might fall down if they collided, he held out his hands to brace her fall. But she must have thought he was pushing her away, for she quickly stepped back with a wounded look on her face. Stannis’ hands lingered mid-air for a brief moment, before he brought it down, clearing his throat nervously. He did not know what to say to Shireen to fix the misunderstanding.

“Is it … is it about Devan taking his lessons with us?” Shireen finally broke the silence, asking in a small, fearful voice. He forgot at times that she was only ten. “Is that why you want to see me, Father?”

_I want to see you because you are my daughter_. He would never be able to say this to her, if he lived a hundred years.

“Yes,” he replied instead. “Tell me what you think about it.”

She was watching him carefully, as if trying to decide whether he was really interested in her thoughts on the matter.

“I want to know what you think, Shireen. You are my heir. One day you will sit on the Iron Throne and rule the Seven Kingdoms. You must know your own mind about any number of things.”

“I think it is a good idea, Father,” Shireen quickly replied. “Edric and me will be very happy to have Devan as our learning companion.”

“Edric and I,” Stannis corrected her.

Shireen blushed. “Forgive me, Father. Edric and I will be very pleased to have Devan’s company during our lessons.”

_Edric and I_. Stannis tried to erase those words from his mind. Unsucessfully. _Edric and I._ Robert’s bastard boy and his daughter. Damn Robert and his seeds! Stannis gritted his teeth.

“Father?” Shireen was staring at him with a fearful look on her face.

“Well, you must be sure to help Devan out if he needs it. He will be lagging behind in the lessons compared to you,” Stannis told his daughter.

A smile finally grazed Shireen’s lips. Stannis could not remember if she had ever smiled in his presence before. “I will, Father. I promise. We will help Devan out, Edric and I.”

Shireen seemed to be keeping her promise, when Stannis observed Maester Pylos giving the children their lessons a few days later. She was talking softly to Devan, pointing out something in the book they were reading. Devan brows were furrowed, concentrating hard. Edric Storm was asking Maester Pylos one question after another, barely stopping to listen to the maester’s answers.

Just like Robert, Stannis scoffed silently. Robert had monopolized their lessons with Maester Cressen with endless questions as well. Silly, unrelated questions usually, with no relation whatsoever to what they were actually learning. He would speak to Pylos about it, Stannis vowed. Pylos must not let one of his charges disrupt his lessons. 

Devan noticed Stannis standing by door, and smiled. Stannis gave him a quick nod and walked away.

 


End file.
